


Power

by Shadowdianne



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/Shadowdianne
Summary: Beautiful, the word had come into her mind the second she had found the footage, several of the old men that still pegged her for a bad copy of her brother sending it to her in order to show her that both Supergirl and Superman were dangers to the world. Unluckily for them, Lena wasn’t her brother and instead of seeing the danger all she had seen had been the strength behind each impact, both physical and mental, of the figure the entire media dubbed as Supergirl.Aka the time in where Lena Luthor thinks about Supergirl





	Power

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to a few crazy girls (they know who they are) for making me write this instead of other things I should be doing.

The footage was blurry, grainy, and the figures on it couldn’t have been distinguished if it hadn’t been for the blue and red colours that clothed them both. Sitting on the couch of her apartment, Lena took a sip of her red wine before moving forward, eyes narrowed at the slightly less bulky silhouette, the one that took into the sky, above the battered lens of the camera that kept on recording, before plunging down onto the other’s figure chest. Colliding with the other figure like a dart, it sent them both into the small pond that had been at their feet and which seemed to explode in a hundred of shards at the contact of both of them falling from such heights.

The video shuddered and faded into black the moment the first figure stood as tall as it was over the other one, the scheme of red and blue dots on the lens of the camera that had died that night. Humming, Lena leaned back and crossed her right leg over the other, right hand tapping on the knee as she rewind the footage one more time, the figure soaring into the night sky and falling once again.

Beautiful, the word had come into her mind the second she had found the footage, several of the old men that still pegged her for a bad copy of her brother sending it to her in order to show her that both Supergirl and Superman were dangers to the world. Unluckily for them, Lena wasn’t her brother and instead of seeing the danger all she had seen had been the strength behind each impact, both physical and mental, of the figure the entire media dubbed as Supergirl.

Glancing at the still half-full glass of wine, the brunette thought again back to that night, almost a month ago. The bitter taste of the alcohol she had consumed the morning before being rescued was something she could still picture perfectly well beneath her tongue as well as her mother’s words. Supergirl’s resolute expression when she had told her that Kara Danvers’ boyfriend would be poisoned with lead as well a few of those other things she still could see with her mind’s eye. Sucking on her breath, eyes falling again into the figure that stood on her screen’s TV, she followed the line of muscles she wasn’t able to see but knew that were there: The lines that would define Supergirl’s back, each and every corded muscle that created the superhero’s arms, the same ones she had thought on leaning during that day, in front of her mother. And not only just to spite her.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the young woman blinked a few times before standing up, the light on her apartment casting shadows on her eyes as she picked the glass she had been drinking form before she put it away on the last second, tongue peeking between her lips. Beautiful. The word had come to her unbiased, unapologetic, as she had first watched the footage on her office and had made her stumble as she continued on seeking for those other traits she had grown accustomed on linking to Supergirl; the pose, the way she soared into the sky, slightly different from her cousin, just enough for her to be able to recognize it.

She had called Kara later on the day, giving her a copy of the footage before asking timidly how she felt. The usually bubbly girl had replied with an answer that had trailed off on the static that seemed to surround them both and Lena had sighed inwardly before asking wheatear the reporter wanted for her to show up or not. The dread of not being answered, of being shut down, never came and to Kara’s manifestation of how she wanted to see her Lena had blinked, throat tight and posture rigid as she had turned into her chair, the city spreading beneath her, the shadow of smoking buildings still darkening its skyline.

Even after a month, each time Lena called Kara she feared that the girl would finally say the words she had started to hear on the back of her mind like a mantra; It had been her fault. Her fault of not trying to find something different, something that wouldn’t have put Supergirl into the position of needing to choose. Of Kara needing to choose.

It was in nights like this, however, when she was pretty sure that only she and the Girl of Steel were still awake, she let her mind wander to the blurry footage of Supergirl transforming herself into Earth’s champion. On her mind the girl’s eyes had twinkled with power, the smouldering heat of her laser eyes still tinting her skin red as she had stood in the middle of the almost destroyed pond, legs heavy, each one of her steps making the water ripple beneath her as she crossed her arms, muscles bulging on her costume, face shadowed as she stared upwards.

In reality she knew enough of the girl to realize that she would have probably kneeled in front of Superman and try to wake him even if she herself had ended up badly injured during the battle. However, reality was a luxury Lena decided on leaving behind every night she put the recording, her eyes following the figure as it moved, as it danced, each punch more powerful than the last one.

Lex had seen in that strength something to worry about. Lena saw the raw power that took for the two figures that had fought that night to move upon them, to exist with their strength, with every inch of their bodies brimming with an energy that no human would be able to compete with.

It was, in one word, a turn-on and as Lena took a deep breath she narrowed her eyes, the words “selfish” “arrogant” and the swirling vortex of fears she was used to live with dulling with each breath she took, her mind replacing them with the Girl of Steel, with those bright eyes that could turn darker into the night, when laced with worry and righteous fury.

A fury Lena have seen back that day, cold perhaps, not as raw as it could possibly had been but one that had permeated through Supergirl like a shield, letting Lena admire it, have a taste on it when the blonde superhero had turned to her and nodded, choosing earth. The idea of having another taste echoing on her mind the first time she had frozen the footage on the scene that was now on display on her screen, arms lowered but still bulging with still unspent energy, cape framing a lithe body, shoulders hunched, fists tightening.

“Beautiful” couldn’t even begin to describe her and as Lena sat on the couch once again she caressed the inside of her inner thighs, fingers skimming over the pants she wore, the fabric warm against her skin. “God-like” was, perhaps, a better fit.

Strength could be seen on many forms, that had been a lesson the youngest of the Luthor family had needed to learn from a very young age; pure strength, however, the one that could make anyone’s melt and soil shatter under the weight of it, was something not easily found and whether the rest of National City made the mistake of thinking as Supergirl as strong but nothing like her cousin she, Lena, could see behind the carefully constructed mask that was Supergirl; the strength that it radiated, the strength she needed to use in order to refrain herself, in order to not move too quick, to not breathe for too long, to not stare too hard, to not caress too much.

She wondered, mind hazy, how it would actually take Supergirl to make for Lena impossible to move; two digits pressing lightly on her chest? One? A feathered touch that would transform into electricity running up her arm if Lena actually asked her to restrain her? A word? An order? She could picture the scene, the way she would look up that arm, noticing the tendons, the way veins kept on pumping power to the blonde’s wrist, running up her forearm, covered in that blue she very much wanted to trace, that hugged every single line of those same arms, that bulged and moved behind the surface of the costume, that reached the shoulders and transformed the electricity of her touch into warmth, a warmth she had already experienced when Supergirl had caught her mid-air, chest rumbling, heart beating against Lena’s ears as she pressed  her ear into the blonde’s neck’s pulse-point.

Raw, unbidden; that had been what Lena had felt, what she had imagined was beneath the girl of steel’s skin, what she had almost seen staring back at her the day she had asked Kara for that first meet up after the Incident as she liked to call it; a warning she had toyed with.

She moaned, right hand climbing to the lapels of her blouse, parting them as she struggled with the first of the many buttons that closed it, her index finger sleeping beneath the fabric, touching the far warmer skin of her chest, eliciting a whimper that got lost in her apartment’s increasingly dark corners.

She could imagine Supergirl hovering above her, shoulders squared, eyeing her with the same curiosity Lena felt prodding her mind every time she caught a glimpse of the superhero. She could picture Supergirl’s fingers being the ones opening her shirt, caressing her chest, her breasts, one long finger dipping between her cleavage, pushing against the fabric of the laced bra a tad too strongly, ripping  it off. She could imagine herself moving forward, capturing the blonde’s by her cape, pushing herself against her chest, laughing into a kiss she would initiate and beg Supergirl to take advance from, mapping lines, drawing red kisses on that skin with her lipstick, nibbling skin impossible to break as those fingers would keep pushing, tearing the blouse apart, making it pool around her elbows before pushing her hard enough against the couch’s back that she would be breathless.

Warmth had transformed into a fire and she kept on lowering her hand, glass already forgotten, on the brink of falling, spilling its content, as she kept on imagining, on wishing.

She could imagine herself licking the lines of those tendons she had seen that day on the blonde’s neck, pushing against the skin. She could imagine asking the superhero to show her how to undress her, to beg her to tear her own clothes apart, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again, drinking on the sight of every angle the slowly falling costume would uncover, the drum of pure power just beneath her fingertips as she caressed the body, moving lower, lower until she could feel Supergirl spasming around her, hot and swollen, dripping on her hand, gaze fiery and hot on her skin, perhaps a little bit too much, just about how she liked it.

Close, a voice on the back of her mind told her, she was close, very close. Close to coming, to calling for her name, for her to hear it how she fantasized, how she kept on imagining, on wanting, on needing and as she finally pushed herself she didn’t bite down the name, letting it rest against her teeth before she opened her lips, a ragged breath coming first as the first initial soared into the sky.

“KARA!”


End file.
